Some Loose Ends
by VampireNaomi
Summary: Silver returns to Treasure Island to pick up his surviving men.


I'm not sure if the pirate who was marooned together with Tom Morgan is actually called Abraham. I'm almost certain I heard him being called that in one scene in the series, but I haven't been able to locate that bit. If his name is something else, please tell me so that I can fix the fic. Thanks.

**SOME ****LOOSE ENDS**

Silver never said a word to anyone, but he was certain that some of his men had survived that final confrontation. It wasn't plausible that Captain Smollett's group had shot all of them. Pirates were a tough bunch, so those lucky ones who had merely fallen off the cliff into the deep waters around the island were sure to have struggled back to the shore. Or maybe they were the unlucky ones as they were now marooned on the island with no supplies.

This cheery thought had amused Silver to no end when their ship had set sail and left the island. Gray had asked him why he was grinning like that when he was on his way to the gallows. Silver had replied that anyone would be happy to get off the treacherous place, and this had made his smile grow even wider.

He didn't know how many of his men were still alive or the identities of those who had survived. After his escape from Jim and Gray he was in no hurry to find out. His men had rebelled against him, and he considered it largely their fault that the majority of the treasure had been lost to him. If they hadn't been so incompetent and mistrusting at every turn, they would all be rich men now.

Silver spent a wonderful year with his wife. They chose to remain in the Caribbean rather than return to England and bought a little house around the edges of a small port town. Though such trivialities as marriage and home had never held Silver back from his adventures, he now found it easy to settle down for a while. He occasionally took to the sea with his friends, but most of the time he remained on land, much to his wife's joy.

Yet she knew him well enough not to be surprised or disappointed when he told her that he had to leave and that he didn't know when he was coming back. She gave him his coat which she had just finished mending and told him that she had been expecting such news for the past week. She said there was that lively look in his eyes again that only the sea could bring forth.

He told her that this time he'd be happy if she waited for him at home instead of coming to look for him. She said it was just as likely as that he'd come straight home without delay once his business was taken care of.

* * *

Silver enjoyed the comfort of the wind ruffling his hair and providing some momentary relief from the scorching sun. He was leaning against the side of the ship near the bow, keeping an eye on the horizon. At any moment now, the infamous island was bound to show.

"What do you think, Flint? Are we going to find anyone there?" he asked his parrot.

"Squawk! Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!" the bird responded, getting a chuckle out of Silver.

"I'm afraid it's a bit too late to look for treasure now," he said.

It was a year and about two months since the treasure had been found. It was a long time for anyone to spend on the island, so Silver was genuinely curious about what he would find. Ben Gunn had lived ten years there all alone, so he would be a little disappointed if his men hadn't managed this shorter period. Of course, it was possible that they had killed each other on their first week there. It wouldn't surprise him much.

He turned around when he heard steps behind him. It was the Captain of the ship, Jacob Thompson. He and Silver were old friends, and Silver had persuaded him to take him to the island after he had won a bet against him. It was a free voyage for him; after his men's treacherousness he wouldn't have spent a penny to rescue them.

"We'll be there in a couple of hours," Thompson said, taking a place by Silver's side.

"Good. I'll row to the island and be done with my business. It shouldn't take long," Silver replied.

"You still aren't going to tell you what this is all about? My crew can follow orders blindly, but I'd like to know why I'm wasting time and money to sail my ship to this godforsaken corner of the world," his friend replied. He turned to glare at Silver with an annoyed look in his dark eyes, but Silver knew his friend was more curious than angry.

He patted Thompson's shoulder and chuckled. "You'd laugh at me if I told you why I'm going there." When Thompson only frowned, Silver continued, "If I'm successful, I guarantee that you'll find out. In fact, that's a given since I'm hoping to bring something back to the ship with me."

Now a greedy gleam entered Thompson's eyes. "I trust you'll give your old friend a share, eh?" he asked.

"You can have all of it if you want to," Silver promised. He did his best to hold back his laughter as he imagined what his friend would say if he returned with a handful of dirty men in rags.

Some hours later he was lowered to the water in a rowing boat. He waved at the men who stayed behind at the ship and started making his way towards the island. With each row, he wondered which of his men were most likely to be still alive. Maybe George Merry. That scoundrel had never known when to give up.

"Did you miss the island?" he asked Flint as they reached the shore. It took some time before he managed to pull the boat far enough so that the waves wouldn't take it away. When he was done, he wiped the sweat off his forehead and turned to look at the wilderness that covered the island. Nobody had come to greet him, which could mean three things. Maybe nobody was alive. Maybe they hadn't noticed the ship, or maybe they were going to ambush him once he entered the forest.

He had a musket and a knife with him, and he supposed they were enough protection. With Flint flying ahead of him, he started following the path that would take him to the blockhouse. While it had been badly damaged by cannon fire, it was still the most logical place for anyone on the island to stay at.

It felt strange to be back on the island. To think that only a little over a year ago it had been the battleground of two entirely different groups filled him with an unfamiliar sense of foreboding. Over a dozen men had died on the island, all of them people he had known. For once in his life he felt a little humbled as he passed familiar spots of scenery and recalled past battles and conversations.

"I might be getting old and senile," he mused out loud. "Or what do you--" He was cut off when Flint let out a sudden squawk and started flying in circles ahead of him. Silver stopped and took a better hold of his musket, making sure that the terrain was even enough. He couldn't use his crutch when he was firing, so he was at a disadvantage until he got close enough to use the knife.

"Is someone there?" he called out. "If yes, show yourself and I won't harm you!"

There was no response, and for a moment he thought Flint had been upset by some animal. Then there was a faint rustle, and a figure emerged from the bushes. It was a man with a long beard and hair that obscured his face. He was dressed in rags that were so worn out that it was hard to tell what the cloth had originally been like. The man was lean and tanned in the sun and reminded Silver so much of Ben Gunn that it would have been easy to think the man had returned to live on the island.

"Silver…" the figure whispered and trembled from head to toe. Silver had a hard time recognising this poor creature, but as soon as the man opened his mouth again, everything became clear.

"Ooh! I knew somebody would come back to us! I prayed, and I knew! For the Lord is great, and greatly to be praised: he is to be feared above all gods!"

"Hello, Abraham," Silver said and lowered his musket.

Abraham tried to walk to him, but he fell on his knees when his feet refused to carry him. He was still shivering like he was on his deathbed and mumbling something incoherent. To his credit, he didn't start openly weeping with joy.

Silver approached the man and pulled him up to his feet. "Is there anyone else here?" he asked.

"It's just me and Tom. Everyone else died when Captain Smollett and the others ambushed us," Abraham said.

"Tom? You mean Morgan?" Silver asked.

"Yes. He's at the blockhouse. He hurt his foot when he was fishing, so he can't move now," Abraham replied.

Silver felt torn between going to the blockhouse and taking Abraham straight to the ship with him. Morgan had been close friends with George Merry and had assisted him in all of his attempts to take Silver's place as the pirates' commander.

"He that deceives me once," he muttered.

"What?" Abraham asked.

Silver shook his head. "Never mind. Do you need anything from the blockhouse before we go?" he asked.

"I want my Bible," Abraham said. "I'd like to have it with me all the time, but I have to leave it there when I go looking for food."

"Fine. Let's go and get it," Silver decided. It wouldn't do to leave the island without saying hello to Morgan, after all.

Abraham proved to be very fast, and he could have easily left Silver behind had he so wanted. However, the man never went farther than fifteen feet away from him and kept glancing at him over his shoulder, like he wanted to make sure that the one-legged man wasn't going to disappear.

Reaching the blockhouse didn't take as long as Silver had expected. The path was clearer now than it had been over a year ago. It was only natural that Abraham and Morgan would have to go out every day.

Signs of the cannon fire that had destroyed much of the blockhouse could still be seen around it, but the building itself stood prouder. The roof had been mended and the damage to the structure had been fixed so that the house was perfectly liveable again. Barrels filled with water stood outside. Silver found it amusing that his plot to have the well poisoned had caused this much trouble to the marooners.

Abraham's excitement finally got the better of him, and he ran up the hill to the blockhouse without waiting for Silver to make the slow and difficult climb.

"Tom! Tom! Quick! Come here! We're saved!"

Silver paused. Morgan never let anyone call him by his first name. It had something to do with his father. Odd how much a hopeless year spent together with someone could change a man's attitude.

Morgan appeared at the door, dragging his injured foot behind him. He didn't look any better than Abraham, but he still had his signature hat (or the remains of it) so it wasn't difficult to recognise him. When he saw Silver climbing up the hill, his jaw dropped and he remained frozen on his spot, eyes wide with shock.

"Silver came back for us!" Abraham announced. He pushed his way inside and shoved Morgan roughly aside. The man fell on his back on the floor, but he was still too stunned to even yelp in pain. He didn't move from the floor or say anything even when Silver made it to the top of the hill and stepped inside.

Silver took a long glance at the interior of the blockhouse. It was a lot messier than he remembered and showed signs of constant use. There were two bed-shaped formations made of blankets and animal skin; one corner of the room was dedicated to collections of dried food, and the fireplace was blackened with ash and soot. It was hardly a cosy home.

"It's been a while, Morgan," Silver said and smiled down at the petrified man. Morgan was trembling very much like Abraham had, but his eyes betrayed that his reaction was more due to fear than joy.

"S-silver," the man managed to stutter.

Silver recalled Abraham's words and glanced at Morgan's foot. A rough bandage that looked like it had been taken out of Morgan's coat was wrapped around it, concealing most of the injury. Silver could still see enough to determine that neither of the two men knew how to treat wounds and that Morgan would be lucky if the foot healed without a serious infection.

Abraham was done rummaging in the room and approached him with his old Bible in his hand. He looked questioningly from Silver to Morgan, but decided against voicing his thoughts.

"Is that all you need? Then we're ready to go," Silver said. He took one step towards the door, but that was when Morgan finally got his ability to speak back.

"Wait! What about me? Aren't you taking me?" he asked.

Silver turned back to look at him and shrugged. "Why should I? You shot me in the cave and then left me in the hands of our enemies. I would have been hanged if I hadn't escaped. Furthermore, I had just discovered the key to finding the treasure. If you and George hadn't been such idiots, we would all have left this island as rich men," he said. He turned back towards the door and made his way outside. Abraham followed him.

"No! You can't leave me here!" Morgan struggled to his feet and rushed after them, but he didn't make it very far. He yelped as he accidentally put weight on his injured foot and fell on the floor. He crawled down the steps and tried to follow Silver and Abraham, but he was in such a hurry that he lost his footing and stumbled, rolling down the hill and making it to the bottom before either of the other men.

He grabbed a hold of Silver's leg as he tried to walk past him. "Please, Silver. Take me with you!" he begged. His eyes held more desperation than Silver could ever recall seeing, even in the eyes of men who were about to be killed.

Silver smacked Morgan's fingers with his crutch and forced the man to let go. He didn't make it more than two steps away before the man was pleading with him again. Silver didn't stop to listen this time.

"Don't leave me! Don't go!"

"Um, Silver? Are we really leaving him? He'll die if we don't take him," Abraham said uncertainly.

"So what? I would have died when he shot me if Dr. Livesey hadn't helped me," Silver said.

"But --"

"Abraham! Come back! Please don't go!"

"You're free to stay with him if you want to. You've spent all this time together here. Surely you've learned to care about him," Silver said. Abraham stopped for a moment and took a hesitant look back to Morgan who had staggered to his feet and was trying to follow them without much success. He leaned against the remains of the wall surrounding the blockhouse and reached out his hand in a pitiful gesture.

"Don't leave me here," he begged.

For a while Abraham didn't know what to do, but then he turned his back on his friend and hurried after Silver. They could both hear Morgan's anguished howl behind them.

"I don't want to leave him," Abraham said.

"Then go back," Silver suggested.

"Will you wait for us?"

"I promised my friend I'd be back on the ship soon. If you want to risk your chance to come with me, go and give Morgan a hand," Silver said. He was being cruel, but this was what Morgan deserved, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He couldn't let the man get away with his betrayal that easily.

Abraham didn't move from his side, but he did glance behind his back every now and then. They were moving fast, so Morgan was already out of sight. He had no hopes of catching up with them even if he decided to leave the stockade and follow them.

"If… if Dr. Livesey helped you even though you were an enemy, why can't you help Morgan?" Abraham asked.

"Dr. Livesey is a far better man than I am," Silver pointed out.

Abraham was silent for the rest of the walk to the boat. He looked crestfallen as he sat down; his head hung low, and his shoulders were slumped. Silver took the oars, musing that the man had gone from one strong emotion to another in the course of such a short time.

"Chin up," he said. "Aren't you happy to get off the island?"

"I thought I'd be, but I feel so guilty. I shouldn't have left Tom. I'll never forget what it was like to see the _Hispaniola_ disappear beyond the horizon. We were crying and begging, but you didn't come back," Abraham said. He let out a miserable sigh. "At least I wasn't alone then."

Feeling sorry for someone wasn't a common trait among pirates. It was even less common when it came to mutinous members of the crew. Morgan more than deserved to spend his remaining days on the island, but Silver supposed it was only natural for Abraham to feel like he had to help the man. There were a few people in the world whose lives mattered to Silver as much as his own, so he could understand the feeling.

"You'll forget about him as soon as we reach the next port. You've been over a year without rum and women," he said with an encouraging smile.

"I can't." The callused hands holding the Bible were trembling so much that it was a wonder Abraham didn't drop the book. He raised his gaze to meet Silver's eyes. "I've changed my mind. I have to go back," he said.

Silver didn't stop rowing. "You'd go back for him? It's unlikely anyone else will come this way. You'd probably be marooned for the rest of your life," he pointed out.

If possible, Abraham's form became even more hunched with the terrifying thought. "I know," he said, "but this isn't right. Tom didn't leave me when I ate something bad and got sick."

"You can't really compare these two things," Silver said.

"I don't care! Take me back!" Abraham snapped. He was glaring at Silver from under the long hair that was falling into his eyes with such burning intensity that it reminded Silver of those nights when he had ranted about how they would all die and should repent. The only difference was that this time his babbling made sense, so Silver was more inclined to agree with him.

However, they were already approaching the ship, and he wasn't about to change his plans on a whim. Despite Abraham's protests, he kept rowing until the bow of the boat hit the hull of the ship.

"Ahoy there!" he called out to the sailors who were watching their arrival. The two of them were helped onboard in no time and someone was sent to get their captain.

Thompson's face fell when he saw that Silver hadn't brought riches with him. "This is what you went to get?" he asked in disdain and eyed Abraham from head to toe. The poor man was a sight with his overly long hair and beard and the ragged clothes, and everyone without duties came over to take a look at the marooned man.

"What did you expect? Doubloons? Jewels?" Silver asked.

"I should have known you'd never bring me any luck," Thompson said. "At least we can now set sail and leave this damned place."

"Oh, not quite yet," Silver said in a suave voice.

"And why is that?" Thompson asked.

"Because I'm going back tomorrow," Silver replied.

"What for?" his friend asked.

"I have something else to pick up."

"And why couldn't you do it now? If you think that I'm going to waste my time --" Thompson started, but Silver waved him into silence with a determined look in his eyes. None of the crewmembers were surprised to see their captain shut up when Silver asked for it. Everyone was already used to that Silver always got what he wanted.

He turned to Abraham to suggest that the man might want to borrow a knife to have his beard and hair cut, but he decided to wait when he saw the confused look on the man's face.

"What?" he asked, trying not to smile.

"Are you going back for Tom? But I thought you said --"

"I did, but I never said I wouldn't come back later. It's going to do old Morgan some good to think that he's been left alone," Silver said. "Believe me, I'm being merciful. He deserves much more than one more day of misery," he continued.

"But I never thought you'd help him," Abraham said.

Now Silver couldn't hold back the grin anymore. "Did you really think I was going to leave him? Why do you think so badly of me?" he asked. When it looked like Abraham was too stunned to say anything, Silver turned around and started walking away towards the galley, laughing merrily all the way.

* * *

It was the worst night of Morgan's life. It was worse than that time when their ship had been attacked and he had been shot and couldn't get proper help until a day later. The incident when they'd run out of water and had thought they'd all die of thirst before reaching land had been nothing compared to this. Death had been close both times, but he had found some relief in the thought that it would be over soon and that he had his comrades with him.

Now there was nobody but him. He had never felt such crushing loneliness as this; the idea of spending his last days all alone on the damned island made him tremble with fear. His death was inevitable. The supplies he and Abraham had collected would last for a while, but after that he'd starve. It wasn't dying itself that scared him for every pirate had to face the fact that their lives could end abruptly, but he dreaded the thought of suffering his final days with only his thoughts for company.

That it had to happen on this island of all places made it even worse. The place was filled with memories of everyone who had died searching for the treasure. The blockhouse and other signs of human life reminded him that there had once been others on the island, which made his loneliness somehow feel worse.

He had tried to follow Silver and Abraham, the burning panic in his chest having forced him to keep going despite the pain in his foot. He had known he would never catch up with them, but that had only fuelled his despair and given him new strength. It was only after he had fallen over the tenth time that he had given up, knowing that he was too late and not wanting to reach the shore anymore. There would be nothing waiting for him except maybe the final glimpse of a ship disappearing from view.

He was still lying where he had fallen on the path. The idea of staying there and dying faster was tempting, but he knew he'd return to the blockhouse sooner or later. He was too much of a coward to give up that easily. For now, however, it felt good to lie on the ground and feel sorry for himself.

I don't want to die like this, he thought. All this time he had been hoping that someone would come to the island and take him and Abraham away. That possibility had been the only reason they had worked so hard to survive. At those rare moments when he had allowed himself to wonder if the island would become their grave, he had always imagined that he would go first. He was older than Abraham and more prone to accidents and not thinking clearly, as evidenced by his foot. He didn't know where that blasted sharp rock had suddenly come from, but he was sure Abraham wouldn't have been careless enough to step on it.

He hadn't thought much about the injury when he had dragged himself to the forest, but now it was impossible to ignore it. It felt like his foot was on fire, and he could feel it throb painfully in rhythm with his heartbeat. The clumsy bandage had fallen off earlier. The wound was probably bleeding again, but he didn't want to take a closer look.

I hate this, he thought miserably. Why had all this happened to him? He hadn't been any worse than the others, so why was it that he had to suffer the most? Why hadn't Captain Smollett and the others not come back for them? Had they not seen them waving on the shore, or had they not cared? Morgan knew there would have been nothing but the gallows waiting for him, but right now it felt like the better option.

And that damned Silver! He had just appeared out of nowhere and made his life even worse. Silver couldn't be persuaded into doing anything he didn't want to and the man could be ruthless when necessary, but surely even he was capable of feeling pity. He had stopped them from killing that Hawkins brat. Couldn't he show at least some mercy on an old mate?

He felt angry at Abraham as well, but he knew that he would have left, too, if the roles had been reversed. It would have been idiocy to stay behind when freedom was so close. There was really no point in feeling betrayed, but he couldn't help it. They had been through so much together and he had even learnt to tolerate Abraham's constant babbling.

I hope their ship sinks, he thought bitterly.

He didn't sleep at all that night. His thoughts and the pain in his foot kept him awake even when he would have liked to have some relief from both. The ground was uncomfortably hard and by the time he tried to get back on his feet, every muscle in his body ached and protested. He leaned against a tree trunk with a groan and buried his face in his hands. The sun was getting up and the first rays were peeking through the thick layers of leaves and branches. The forest around him grew awake and became filled with sounds of birds and insects.

The hopelessness of his situation struck him with full force. His chest felt heavy when he realised that his death was no longer something looming in the distant future; it was reality and he couldn't escape from admitting that by feeling angry or miserable. Now that it was morning and the island felt more alive again, he felt lonelier than ever. He could shout all he wanted, but nobody would ever hear him. Nobody would miss him when he was gone.

At that moment it felt very tempting to cry, but some stubborn part of him refused to give up like that. Maybe he'd die all alone and miserable, but at the very least he could do it like a man. Even if there was nobody to see it, it would make him feel better.

"I take it you now know what betrayal feels like?" a very familiar voice asked, startling him from his thoughts. Morgan lifted his head from his hands and stared at the man standing before him, wondering if he had gone insane and was imagining things.

"Silver? Is that you?" he asked. He had to be seeing things. Why else would Silver be standing there?

"Who else?" Silver asked. An amused smile was playing on his lips, but Morgan didn't dare think that it was a good sign. One could never know with Silver. He had often seen him smile just like that before killing a man.

"Why are you here?" he asked, licking his lips. Maybe Silver had decided to come back and kill him to make sure he'd never make it off the island. Just a moment ago he would have welcomed that thought, but now it made him fidget nervously. It was one thing to think you were ready to die, but facing death was something else.

Silver took a seat on a large rock by the path. He put his crutch aside so that it was leaning against his thigh. Morgan noted that Silver wasn't carrying a musket this time, but he guessed the man didn't need one. If they got into a fight, it was clear which man would win. He wished Silver would just say something instead of staring at him like that. The intensity of the man's glare made him tremble with worry of what would happen.

"Well, Morgan. I'm a little surprised to find you here in the forest. What are you doing here this early?" Silver asked.

Morgan blinked. What was Silver getting at now? The previous day he had just ignored his pleas and now he wanted to chat? What was he supposed to think of that?

"I tried to follow you, but I didn't get any further than this," he finally said.

"That's no surprise with that," Silver said and pointed at his foot. "If you don't take better care of it, you might end up like me."

Morgan couldn't stop his eyes from wandering to the stump of Silver's left leg. What had Silver meant by that? They both knew that losing his foot was the least of his worries.

"Why did you come back?" he asked.

Silver shrugged. "When I made it to the ship, I realised that the two of us still have some unfinished business. It would have been a shame to leave before that was all taken care of," he said.

"What do you mean?" Morgan asked. This didn't sound good.

Silver wasn't smiling anymore. He placed his hand on his left side. "You shot me, Morgan. I let you and George live after you turned everyone against me and tried to burn me at a stake, but you betrayed me again as soon as you got another chance. I don't think too highly of that sort of thing," he said.

Morgan squirmed. That whole escapade had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. "But… but we had no choice! George said that you only kept us alive because you didn't have enough men to look for the treasure and sail the ship. He said you'd kill us as soon as we were no longer needed," he said.

"When I want to kill someone, I do it right away. You should know that. We served together on Captain Flint's crew," Silver said in a low tone.

"But George said--"

"Forget about George! Can't you think for yourself for once?" Silver snapped. When Morgan couldn't answer right away, he continued, "I showed you mercy when you deserved to die, but you still turned against me. Do you have nothing else to say but that George made you do it?"

"What was I supposed to think? Pirates don't show mercy on each other without plotting something! Everything George said made sense. We had lost so many men looking for the treasure and the map was leading us nowhere! You failed as a captain, and I thought the only way to leave the island alive was to get rid of you," Morgan replied. The whole adventure had been a disaster. First they had let Captain Smollett and the others slip through their fingers with the map, then they had lost several men to malaria, and none of their plans had worked at all. It was easy for Silver to claim the high ground now that he had emerged victorious, but he was not entirely without flaw.

"You never shared any of your plans with anyone. You just gave orders and kept secrets from us. And you made friends with the Hawkins boy. How were we supposed to follow you when we had no idea what you were thinking and planning?" he continued. He didn't know where he got the courage to say all that, but the anger he was feeling had been brewing inside him throughout the year he had spent on the island.

Silver was silent for a long time. Morgan couldn't tear his eyes from the man. He was expecting to feel Silver's anger any moment now. His own frustration was still burning so bright that he couldn't really feel afraid.

"I knew exactly what I was doing," Silver finally said. The danger had left his voice, and he now sounded almost apologetic by comparison.

"I didn't," Morgan said.

"You would have never found the treasure without me. There was a secret clue in the map that I discovered just before you shot me," Silver explained.

"Who cares about the treasure? George's plan would have solved everything. I didn't want to spend the rest of my time here looking over my shoulder and wondering when you'd try to have your revenge," Morgan said.

"Funny," Silver said. "I could easily say the same about you. In retrospect, I should have killed you when I had the chance. Then the treasure would have been mine and I wouldn't have to waste my time talking to you."

Morgan didn't know what else he could have said. Silver wasn't the kind of man who would ever admit his mistakes, most of all to someone like him. He knew that what he and George had done in the cave had been a dumb thing, but it had felt like the best option at the time. How could they have known that Silver was close to deciphering the map or that Captain Smollett's group was waiting to ambush them outside?

He couldn't really bring himself to believe that Silver hadn't been planning to kill them once they were no longer needed. He knew the man well enough not to trust everything he said. However, it no longer mattered. They could argue about it forever, but they'd never convince each other. It made him feel tired all of a sudden. He just wanted to forget all about this island, the treasure and Silver.

Silver took his crutch and stood up. Morgan held his breath as he wondered what would happen. Would Silver just walk away from him like the previous day? Was he going to kill him? Was he not going to say anything more? The familiar sense of panic started to take hold of him, and he had to clench his fists to keep his hands from shaking. He didn't want to be left behind, but he wasn't going to beg anymore.

"It's probably time to go," Silver said. He started walking down the path towards the shore. Morgan remained where he was, a horrible sense of defeat falling over him. He couldn't watch Silver disappear in the forest, so he kept his eyes fixed on his hands.

He turned to look when he heard an impatient cough, surprised that Silver was still there.

"Well?" Silver asked. "Are you coming or not?"

"What?" Morgan asked.

"I'm afraid that if we don't hurry, Captain Thompson is going to leave without us. Maybe you like it here, but I don't want to stay," Silver said.

"What?" Morgan asked again. Silver had to be joking. The previous day he had said that he wasn't going to take him with him. A man like Silver didn't change his mind overnight. This had to be his one last cruel trick.

"I wouldn't normally help anyone who has betrayed me, but since I don't plan to have you in my crew ever again, it doesn't really matter. Besides, I want to forget about this island and move on. I can't really do that as long as someone I know is still here, can I?" Silver said.

"Really? Are you serious?" Morgan asked. It was too good to be true and so unlike Silver that it was still tempting to think the man was lying.

"Would I have come back if I wasn't?" Silver asked. He wasn't smiling, so he had to be sincere.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Morgan couldn't recall if he had ever felt such a strong sense of relief and joy. It was like he wasn't in control of his body anymore; the shaking in his hands had only got worse, and he felt ready to jump into the air. He struggled up to his feet and then promptly fell back against the tree trunk with a grimace, having forgotten all about his injury.

"Hmm," Silver said thoughtfully and started walking down the path.

"Hey, where are you going? Wait for me!" Morgan yelled and hurried after the man. It was awkward and slow to move using only one foot, but he made progress with the help of the trees that grew around the path. The sight of Silver getting further and further away from him was disheartening, but the man had promised to help him. Surely he'd wait for him on the shore.

He could hardly believe that this was happening. He had been so resigned to his miserable fate that it still felt like it was just a dream that Silver had come back. He would have laughed if his lungs hadn't been burning so much from hopping along the path on one foot.

Morgan stopped when he noticed that Silver was coming back. The man was holding a long wooden staff that looked like he had just snapped it off a tree. It still had a few branches on it. Silver tossed the staff at him.

"This is from one cripple to another," Silver said. "It's a lot easier when you can lean on something."

"Oh. Thanks," Morgan said. He weighed the staff in his hand. It felt a bit awkward, but he had no time to get used to it. Silver took off again without another word, and Morgan had no choice but to follow him.

It turned out that the staff didn't help him much. Silver made it look so easy, but it was difficult to maintain a rhythm. Morgan kept stumbling over his feet and the staff, losing his balance when he wasn't being careful enough. Silver never turned back to look at him, but Morgan was certain he could hear his struggle and was smiling to himself about it.

By the time they reached the shore and the boat, Morgan was exhausted and every part of his body hurt. He wanted to throw the darn staff away, but he supposed he'd need it onboard. He stopped to look at the sea where he could see the ship. Knowing that he'd soon be off the cursed island made him almost choke on his breath.

"What's going to happen to me now?" he asked once they were on the boat and Silver was rowing them towards the ship.

"I have no use for you, so you can do whatever you want," Silver said.

Morgan frowned as he kept looking at the ship. He had been away for over a year. Before that he had placed all his hopes on that they'd find the treasure and he'd never have to worry about anything ever again. He guessed he could always go back to piracy, but after this misadventure he felt like he had had enough of it for a lifetime.

* * *

The ship set sail later that day after they had filled their water supply on the island. Silver didn't talk to either Abraham or Morgan after his return onboard, but he kept a close eye on both men. They had cut their hair and beard and borrowed decent clothes from the crew, so now it was almost impossible to tell that they had spent over a year marooned on the island. They were thin and tanned, though in Morgan's case it wasn't much of a difference. Much to Silver's amusement, their marooners were cleaner than anyone else on the ship because they had had a steady supply of fresh water on the island.

He stood on the quarterdeck, leaning against the side of the ship and looking at the setting sun. Evening right before nightfall had always been a special time for him on sea. He couldn't help but think back to the talk he and Jim had had on such a moment. Silver was curious to know how the lad was doing.

He said nothing when Thompson took a place by his side, sighing with anger.

"This was all a colossal waste of time," he said. He glanced at Silver, expecting some kind of reaction but getting none.

"Well?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"Well what?" Silver asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. Why did we come here?" Thompson asked.

"To save two men from a horrible fate. Isn't that enough of a reason?" Silver replied.

Thompson snorted. "For most people, maybe, but not for you. You're getting something out of this or you would have never come here," he said.

"Why does everyone think I have no heart?" Silver asked. He cracked a smile at the annoyance on Thompson's face. It was cheap fun, but he enjoyed seeing that reaction in people whenever they knew that he wasn't being honest with them.

"Forget it. I'm never going to get a straight answer out of you," Thompson said.

"If you really want to know, I can tell you, but I have to warn you. I have no grand scheme this time. It might be bit of a letdown," Silver said.

"Go ahead. This might be a once in a lifetime chance to hear that the great John Silver isn't plotting something behind everyone's back."

Silver chuckled at Thompson's words. Maybe it wasn't such a good thing that even his friends didn't trust him, but he supposed he was reaping what he had sown. There were only a handful of people he trusted, after all. Thompson, though usually reliable, wasn't among them.

"You know that I used to serve in Captain Flint's crew and that there were rumours about his vast treasure being buried somewhere," he started.

"Yes?" Thompson said, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Oh, don't get your hopes up. The treasure was found over a year ago. I'm surprised you didn't already know. It was big news," Silver said, smiling as Thompson's face fell in disappointment.

"I thought finding that treasure was your dream," the man pointed out.

Silver turned to look at the sun, now only a small dot against the darkening horizon. It was over ten years since Flint's death, but now it felt like barely a day had passed.

"It was," he said. "I dreamt of nothing but that for years. I'm afraid it became my little obsession."

"But someone else went and found the treasure before you? Tough luck," Thompson said with a shrug. He flashed a crooked grin at his friend when Silver turned to glare at him.

"Yes," Silver growled.

"But what does that have to do with anything?" Thompson asked.

"The treasure was on the island we just visited. I go a long way back with Morgan and I knew he was on the crew that went to look for the treasure. He went missing during the search, so I decided to come and look for him when I got the chance," Silver said.

Thompson frowned at him. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"I told you there was nothing going on," Silver said. Whether Thompson believed him or not didn't really matter. As long as he had offered the man something, he'd be happy and wouldn't look into things he didn't need to know about.

"Well, I still say that this was a colossal waste of time," Thompson muttered. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair as he walked past Silver and disappeared into his quarters. Silver thought he could finally return to his thoughts, but he was again disturbed when Morgan approached him.

"Why didn't you tell him the truth?" the man asked.

"About what?" Silver asked.

"About the treasure hunt. You didn't tell him that you were there or what really happened," Morgan said.

"Why should he know about that? I don't want to spread the word that my treasure was taken from me right under my nose," Silver replied.

"Shouldn't everyone know that already? You said the adventure was big news," Morgan said. He didn't dare come to stand next to Silver like Thompson had and preferred standing some ten feet away. His foot had been looked into by a sailor who knew something about medicine, but he still needed the staff Silver had given him to move around.

Silver shook his head. "Captain Smollett and the others kept my involvement mostly out of their story. I intend to repay the favour by not telling my pirate friends that I know them, or they might run into some trouble," he said.

Morgan didn't say anything, but Silver could read the doubts on the man's face. True, the name John Silver wasn't widely known for paying debts.

"And why did you really come back for us?" Morgan asked.

"What do you mean? Don't you believe what I told Captain Thompson?" Silver asked. The expression on Morgan's face revealed that he hadn't believed it for one second. Silver supposed it was harder to trick people who had served years on the same crew with him.

"I already told you that I want to forget all about the island and the treasure. At first I didn't care if anyone was still alive, but every now and then I had top stop and think about the possibility. As long as I didn't know for sure, I couldn't put the island behind me," Silver said.

"That doesn't sound like you," Morgan pointed out.

"Don't think it was out of pity or desire to do the right thing. It was for my own peace of mind," Silver said.

Morgan shrugged. "Fine. I guess I should just be grateful and not ask any questions," he said.

"That might be for the best," Silver agreed. "Oh, and don't forget that if I ever need favours from either you or Abraham, I expect you to do them for me."

"Oh, of course! Haha, you can always count on me!" Morgan said at once. He grinned nervously, probably wondering what horrible things Silver would be asking of him in the future. At the moment Silver couldn't think of anything he might need of Morgan, but it never hurt to keep all options open.

Night had fallen over the course of their conversation, and the deck was shrouded in shadows. The moon was hidden behind a large cloud, but several stars could be seen on the sky. Silver closed his eyes, enjoying the cool wind on his face.

"Did you still need something?" he asked. Morgan was horribly clumsy with his staff, so the silence proved that he hadn't moved from his spot.

"What, me? No, nothing. It's just… well, I never thanked you properly. No pirate I know would have saved me," Morgan said, stuttering a little with his words.

"No need to thank me. I already said I didn't do it for you," Silver replied.

"It doesn't mean I'm not grateful," Morgan muttered.

Silver chuckled. It occurred to him that he and Morgan were the only men remaining from Captain Flint's crew. Everyone else had died looking for the treasure. Silver wasn't prone to too much sentimentality, but that night the thought made him feel a little wistful. He supposed that he couldn't hold Morgan's betrayal against him. If the man hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been one of Flint's pirates.

He started humming Dead Man's Chest and grinned when he noticed Morgan flinch at the tune of the familiar shanty.

"So, I'll be going, then," the man said quickly. He stumbled as he hurried past Silver to get away from the quarterdeck.

"I thought you liked the song," Silver said, but he didn't receive a reply. Finally alone, he stopped humming, but his fingers still tapped the side of the ship in the correct rhythm.


End file.
